


Forever Comfort Me

by lizook12



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So yeah, she should probably be home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Comfort Me

**Author's Note:**

> Slight blink-and-you-miss-it spoiler for Asterisk

Donna usually loves fall. She's not one for the sappy bullshit of crisp air and a time of change, but the subways no longer feel like ovens and she supposes there's something nice about the bright colors of the morphing leaves.

Only this year autumn seems to be intent on being her mortal enemy. Her favorite jacket is ruined thanks to some tourist who bumped into her and spilled half their pumpkin mocha whatever-Starbucks-dreamed-up-this-year all over the sleeve, the Giants are playing like a well coached team of fourth graders could beat them, and now she's sick.

She never gets sick.

Tugging a tissue from the depleted box on her desk, she leans back and closes her eyes, thankful the lunch hour is slow for once. Harvey and Mike are in a meeting across town, something with the Blakenshipp merger she thinks, but at this point she's lucky she hasn't stapled the code orange memos to the Mott brief. So yeah, she should probably be home.

The city's greatest legal aid—she'll grudgingly give Harvey the title of best legal _mind_ —isn't about to be felled by a pesky little virus though.

Overwork and simply being too awesome _might_ do it, but not the common, goddamn cold.

She wishes it would just break already. She has enough layers hidden under her dress to qualify as an assistant in a magic show and yet she still has her plum scarf looped tightly around her.

Gloves might be next.

And she's fairly certain Harvey wouldn't miss those even though he's shown no sign of noticing so far and this is the fourth day running...

The elevator dings and she knows it's him before the doors even finish sliding open. Hastily, she tugs the scarf off and shoves it in her top desk drawer, messing her hair in the process.

Heaven help Mike if he makes some droll comment about her looking like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_.

Fixing it as much as she can, she takes a drink of the disgusting herbal remedy Rachel had sworn by the last time she was sick, and opens the top brief on the pile once more.

Harvey's almost to her desk now and the meeting must have gone really well because the left corner of his mouth is turning up and it's taken him twenty steps to get there instead of the usual twenty-five.

Mike is suspiciously absent.

"Only a couple important—"

Her words die as he takes the slips from her hand, drops a bag of cough drops—the same cough drops she ran out of ten minutes ago—on her desk and starts into his office. His fingers barely brush against her shoulder when he stops and leans forward, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

It makes her head spin a little, they rarely invade each others space like this anymore, especially at work, and it's not until he's in his office that the words sink in and she realizes he's known the whole damn time.

_You're staying home tomorrow if you go through that bag as fast as the first._

No question, no room for argument, just an acknowledgment laced with concern.

She tears open the bag and turns, their eyes meeting through the glass. His hands are crossed behind his head, feet propped on the corner of the desk. She thinks of scolding him through the intercom, but smiles instead as his fingers flex and he raises an eyebrow, which she rightly interprets as "I mean it."

Swiveling back to her desk, she exhales slowly before returning to the Mott brief.

And pops two cough drops in her mouth.


End file.
